One or the Other
by Nerica
Summary: AU. While investigating an underground market, Detective Kirkland finds out his missing brother is somehow connected to the affair. Little did he know that things would turn so badly so quickly when he is forced to make a decision. [HIATUS -sorry about that!]


**One or the other**

The Frenchman cursed as he ran through the crowd, not paying attention to the surprised cries of those he had shoved aside in his hurry. This was entirely that damned Eyebrows' fault. Usually, he would not worry for his partner and he would often joke that he was more worried for those unfortunate enough to underestimate the ill-tempered Brit officer. However, this time was different. The case was much too personal, too close to home for comfort and he had an extremely bad feeling, which made him redouble his efforts.

HetaliaHetaliaHetalia

He would always remember the day they met. He had hated the man before he even opened his mouth. Blue eyes had openly stared at his…forehead before looking back down at him, that mocking smirk on his lips.

"Francis Bonnefoy, it seems we are going to be partners, oui?"

"Not if I can help it," he had replied coolly, ignoring the extended hand. Of course, he had not been able to convince the chief to assign someone else to him.

"Kirkland, give the man a chance, heard he was quite good at his job back in France" continued the cheerful Italian "Besides, you wanted a partner, well you have one, now go". He may have been stubborn, but not a fool and did not want to test the chief's patience. The man could be quite intimidating when he lost his smile. Hard to think that it has already been five years since then, they were but officers at the time...

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He would never forget the say they met. The first thing he noticed about the other was the man's rather well…_thick_ eyebrows. That was putting it lightly; for a moment, he thought they were caterpillars! He had to bite his tongue and hold back his amusement, least he started things on the wrong foot. However, it seemed he never had a chance, for the other immediately blew him off. In truth, he had been quite miffed by that less than warm welcome. Who did this Rosbif think he was? He was rather popular back in his old station, if he said so himself, and anyone would have been happy to have him as partner. He weighted his options. On one hand, he could give the other a taste of his own medicine and be rude as well. On the other, he could simply make the other's life miserable while preserving his own image as his perfectly polite and charming self. The choice was obvious, and it may have made all the difference in their relationship. The man was so easy to rile up, he almost felt bad. Almost.

HetaliaHetaliaHetalia

He could not help but feel like the Frog was taking pleasure in annoying the hell out of him. For one, the git had that annoying habit of turning up late no matter what time they were to meet. But the bastard always made sure to not be _too_ late, never more than a couple minutes, which was all the more infuriating for Arthur, who was always early by at least five minutes, like a proper gentleman. This meant he had to wait at least seven minutes every time! This might not seem much, but multiply that by five days per week, by 52 weeks a year, by five years, and it all adds up! 9100 minutes to be exact! That makes 151.66667 hours of his life he would never get back, all thanks to that wine-loving, cheese-crazy, goatee-sporting twit!

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If there was one thing they agreed on, it was that they were dissimilar in about every aspect. Where Arthur was rigid, he was flexible. His partner was not much of a people's person and his lack of tact could be astonishing. Maybe it was the eyebrows… Still, Francis thought it was funny how in a way, it made things easier for them. His preference for more hands-on activities and the Brit's quick dealing of paperwork meant that dividing the workload was straightforward; he would be the one doing most of the talking while Arthur took notes, although they occasionally did their good cop, bad cop act. Not that they were incapable of doing each other's job; he remembered how that one time, they tried to reverse the roles as a challenge and he had to admit, he was quite impressed by Arthur's acting skills. Eyebrows was probably surprised by how well-written that report had been as well. For what he knew, that experience gave them both a newfound appreciation of each other's contribution.

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Some might say they simply complemented each other very well, and although they fought all the time about anything and everything, they always knew when to put their differences aside and were practically unstoppable as a team. With the years, they had come to know each other much more than they ever thought they would or would want to. Arthur couldn't remember when Francis had started to bring him his cuppa on his way to the office, or how he had come to know the way Froggy liked his coffee, or when it had become a normal thing to go get lunch together or get a drink after work. Little habits had made their ways into routines, arguments had become bickering, hate had transformed into mere annoyance, and rivalry turned into respect and then, perhaps something almost akin to friendship. Not that he would ever admit it aloud, to himself or anyone else for that matter.

HetaliaHetaliaHetalia

The French policeman finally caught up to his partner. He took in the scene in front of him and felt his heart stop for a second. The young man they had been pursuing had his back against the brick wall and his pistol firmly pointed on his colleague, who had lowered his own firearm, one hand held up in a reassuring manner. It certainly did not feel reassuring to Francis, who could only look on horrified, although his years of training and practice helped him quickly reassuming his calm façade. So this was the brother who had been missing for more than six years. Arthur never talked about his family, but he found out about the lost boy who ran away the same night he found out about the rather how to say…talkative effects alcohol had on his grumpy Brit. He had tried to ask him about it the following morning, but the man had clamped close and denied the whole thing before avoiding the topic. Francis himself had things he would rather not talk about and therefore knew better than to pry. He simply let the matter drop and they had both come to an unsaid agreement, pretending it never happened. Until now, that is.

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><p>AN: Please review, as it is the only way I know people have actually read what I wrote! Besides, I really want to know what you guys think. :P<p> 


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